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User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 61
Previous Chapters 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th, 31st, 32nd, 33rd, 34th, 35th, 36th, 37th, 38th, 39th, 40th, 41st, 42nd, 43rd, 44th, 45th, 46th, 47th, 48th, 49th, 50th, 51st, 52nd, 53rd, 54th, 55th, 56th, 57th, 58th, 59th, 60th The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 61 4th Era 150, 4th of Second Seed, Pyandonea He stared at the pile without seeing it. His arms rested on the armrests, and his feet were crossed under the desk. Worship of the Princes should be outlawed, but Orgnum refused to do so. He had reasons, he always said, for allowing the scattered worship of different Princes to continue. He never stated what those reasons were, however. He sighed, eyes straying to the cabinets in a corner of his office. The current case was closed, so it didn't keep his mountain of papers company. Instead, he'd written out the report and handed it to his superiors, who had read it and congratulated him on his work. He'd then brought it back to his office and stored it away in the cabinets, where the completed cases resided. Although the case was finished, it still unsettled him. The deceased's terrible death, reading about Vaermina, the heart-wrenching loss and pain of his housekeeper, all of it. When he had still been a Junior Investigator, he had talked with some Seniors who had been about to retire. Many of them talked about "the case": the one you always remember, the one that impacts and haunts you for the rest of your career. The one you spend drinking away late at night and the wee hours of the morning. The one full of "what ifs" and "if onlys." He was younger then, thinking that those veterans were just in need of a good tonic, if not some time at a healing center. Now he knew better. Oncalimar shifted his gaze to the ceiling. After he'd interviewed Niranya, Carodaar's former housekeeper, he had taken the totem of Vaermina - citing it as "evidence" - and took it to a secluded spot, away from prying eyes. Chanting a simple warding spell (again, he was not much of one for magic), he prayed to the Eight that he and others would not be harmed by what he was about to do. He then took up a large, palm-sized rock and attacked the plaster idol until it was utter powder, and spread it around so that it looked like just a patch of sand. Afterwards, he threw the rock as hard as he could into the nearby woods, hearing it crash through the branches and dense leaves, then walked until he found the road and hailed a carriage and rode to the Vigilants headquarters and wrote his report. He idly studied the smoke smudges on the ceiling. His office had belonged to one of those now-retired Investigators, and he had dealt with his stress by being a compulsive smoker. While he had taken his belongings with him when he left, no one had cleaned the ceiling, leaving behind the smoke stains. On hot days, the stains sometimes activated, letting him get a faint whiff of the pipe smoke. Although he suspected - no, knew - that this case had been "the case" for him, he was determined to not drown his troubles in flagons of ale or choke it out with smoking. Occasional breaks: yes. Turning such substances into heavy, constant balms for stress: no. He still had a job to do, and he was going to do it properly. His eyes went back to the pile of paperwork. No more cases had been added since yesterday or the day before, and none so far today. If he was lucky, he could finish a few before the end of the day. Glancing out the window, he saw the sun was high in the sky, and unarguable sign that it was noon. He would have gotten back here earlier if he hadn't gone to the trouble of destroying the totem, but he didn't feel guilty about it. Not then, not now. It was neccesary. No, not neccesary, urgently needed. If he knew where any more totems were, he might "visit" and do a little deconstruction. No, that wouldn't work. He would then be on the opposite side of the law, and he still liked his job. Better to just go through the paper mountain to keep his mind off his closed case. Sighing, Oncalimar carefully scooted his chair closer to the desk and leaned forward, taking a set of papers off the top of the pile and began to read. As he tossed the papers into the wastebasket - it turned out to be a crank case - he mused an after-work drink wouldn't hurt. As long as he kept to one drink, after work drinks wouldn't be a bad way to unwind after a hard day. He might have more of...whatsherface's...Andriel's ale, or try something else. The thought made him smile as he reached for another case. Category:Blog posts